Saving Razor

Anton only had one friend. Nobody at his school seemed to like him. Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe it was just because he was so quiet and didn't let anyone get close enough to him, his thoughts, his feelings.1

His father had already left him, and his mother thought he was mentally challenged. She hated her son for being such a disappointment. She never wanted him anyway. His father blamed him for the rape, the only one he ever told the secret to.2

"A real man would stand up for himself, son, beat the kid instead of letting him inside your pants." is what he was told.3

Anton put on a small dark sweater and some jeans. He picked up his bag and went out the door, walking the short distance to school.
He went to his seat quickly as the first bell started to ring. He felt light-headed today, and unsettled, his long black hair disheveled and his shoelaces untied. He noticed that some of the kids in the class were staring at him.4

When the class was over, the boy who sat in front of him turned and looked him in the eye.5

"What are you staring at?" he asked.6

"Don't try to hide it anymore, the whole school knows. Fucking homo freak."7

The boy left without another word and Anton felt a hole deepening in the pit of his stomach. He knew now that he could not make it through the rest of the school day. They were going to stare at him. They were going to laugh at him, they were going to hurt him...8

he ran to his house as fast as he could. His mother was in the kitchen. She scoffed at his appearance.9

"Mom..?" he said.10

"Can I tell you something?"11

She did not seem to be listening very intently.12

He wanted to tell her about what happened and that he was gay, that no one understood how he felt. He just wanted some comfort. To know that he was not a freak. He wanted to know that he meant something to someone and that there was a reason for him to live.13

But there wasn't. Never mind.14

He went to his room and cried. He threw his things at the wall. There was nothing left here for him anymore. He went to his drawer and found it, his only friend; the razor. It was the one thing that made him feel better, made him feel anything. There wasn't a place on his body that was not full of scars.15

He rolled up his sleeve and cut deep, deeper, deeper, until he felt the scorching crimson pain of the razor screwing with his veins. Now he knew it would be alright. The blood welled on the floor and soon he couldn't see light anymore... all went blank.